


Precious Boy

by Lucca_Kane



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Crying, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Kinktober, Kinktober 2016, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Safewords, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8195762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucca_Kane/pseuds/Lucca_Kane
Summary: Due to an incident at the Herald's Rest, Dorian cannot get the thought of Trevelyan bent over his knee out of his mind. He decides to take their affair to a new level and in turn, discovers something so beautiful in someone so unexpected. What else will he be able to discover about Treveylan? And himself?





	1. Spanking

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Kinktober story! Where everything is made up and I become WAY too invested in something that was just supposed to be about kinks.
> 
> Each chapter will involve some kink corresponding to a predetermined list for each day of the month of October. Hopefully each chapter can be read as a standalone if a particular kink isn't your thing, but I can't guarantee anything.
> 
> Also, since I'm going to try to be putting these out daily (I'm already behind lol) they will be unbeta'd. I try my best to catch everything but I'm not perfect.
> 
> ANYWAY~ Let's get to the story, shall we?

     The first time Dorian ever thought about Inquisitor Trevelyan bent over his knee, it was entirely not his fault.

     A night of drinking and loose tongues had led to countless games of Wicked Grace, and the normally quiet Inquisitor had let a tad of his tightly wound self control slip, allowing himself to indulge in a camaraderie that he normally shied away from due to his anxious nature. It was pleasant to see the young man flushed with alcohol and joy, laughing along to the outrageous stories Bull and his Chargers spun. Such a beautiful smile so rare on the boy’s face, Dorian couldn’t get enough. He watched the younger mage throughout their drinking, sipping calmly at a whiskey he had persuaded Cabot to serve only to him; at a price of course. He had noticed that Trevelyan didn’t share any stories himself, just seemed content to listen and enjoy, and Dorian pondered whether or not it was due to the fact that the younger man hated to be in the spotlight. Dorian smiled into his glass; such a curious trait for the man who lead the Inquisition.

     The night drove on, Dorian quietly enjoying Trevelyan enjoying himself, when finally the young mage stood on wobbling legs, announcing he would be turning in for the evening. The rest of the patrons at the Herald’s Rest toasted him-at Bull’s behest-which caused a brilliant flush of a different kind to color the man’s cheeks. Dorian watched as the man excused himself and tried to shuffle away as composed as he could, still swaying slightly, but looking fairly steady considering how rarely he indulged himself in alcohol.

     On the contrary, Bull seemed to have indulged in more than usual, for when Trevelyan passed him towards the exit, he exclaimed, “Good on ya, Boss!” and lay his hand down on Trevelyan’s arse with a quick _slap!_

     Dorian knew that the sound that exited their dear Inquisitor’s mouth would remain with him on cold and lonely nights for many years to come. It was a cross between a startled yelp, and a whimper, and the unbidden image of Trevelyan bent over Dorian’s knees with his arse in the air waiting to be smacked assaulted Dorian’s senses.

 _Maker’s Breath._ Trevelyan’s face flushed entirely scarlet, and it looked as though he were ready to run out of the tavern or pass out, perhaps even a combination of the two. There was a moment of silence before laughter burst out from the patrons, shaking the entire tavern with its intensity. From what Dorian could see, they were laughing about the fact that their Inquisitor could be so surprised, not about the noise he had made, but when Dorian glanced at the boy, there was moisture in his eyes. Yet he simply collected himself, laughed weakly, pat Bull on his shoulder, and left the tavern without sparing anyone a second glance.

     The sudden urge to follow his fellow mage was palpable, yet Dorian stayed put. When he glanced back at Bull they made eye contact, and through the bizarre blink/wink Bull threw at him, Dorian knew that he was not the only one who had heard the noise for what it was.

 

     That had been months ago, and since then, Dorian and their fair Inquisitor had developed a sort of, unspoken agreement. With stolen kisses and gentle touches, faces flushed and words stumbled over, it was positively the most chaste affair Dorian had ever been a part of. He dared not call it a relationship because that wasn’t what it was, but the way Trevelyan would blush and smile after Dorian gave him even the most chaste kiss made Dorian smile in return. After everything they had been through together, from killing dragons to meeting with Dorian’s father, the Tevinter man found Trevelyan’s affections and innocence a breath of fresh air compared to any of his previous trysts. It was quaint, and it was adorable, but the memory of the sound on that night so long ago still stayed with him, and with each passing day Dorian yearned to hear that sound again in it’s entirety, lest it fade away from him. How beautiful would Trevelyan look, presenting himself to him and only him, a face flushed scarlet and lips bit in a mixture of fear, embarrassment, and arousal. Would his eyes sparkle with unshed tears like that night? _Maker’s Breath_ Dorian needed to know.

 

     So like the intelligent man and brilliant chess player he was, Dorian devised a strategy.

 

***

     Dorian greets Trevelyan in his nook in the library with an open mouth kiss, glancing at Mother Giselle who looks on with thinly veiled disgust. It takes all Dorian has not to smirk into the kiss, but he deepens it for just a moment just to spite the old hag before breaking away. Trevelyan gasps and flushes as always whenever Dorian bestows affection on him, and it pleases Dorian so that he surprised the young man. “Is there something you needed, dear Inquisitor?” He asks rather smugly since Trevelyan seems to have forgotten why he was there.

     The man coughs, caught staring and embarrassed for it, but recovers quickly. His already rough Free Marcher accent sounds a tad more rough when he speaks and Dorian can’t help but feel a little pride in knowing he is the cause. “Let’s do something interesting,” Trevelyan blurts, as if he hadn’t planned to say that and it had just fallen from his mouth. “If you’re free,” he adds on quickly, his eyes flittering away from Dorian’s in anxious habit.

 _Perfect_ . “I always have time for our dear Inquisitor,” Dorian says. It earns him a bashful smile that warms the cockles of his heart. Such a pleasant boy. He cannot resist leaning in close to talk lowly in Trevelyan’s ear, trapping the shorter man against one of the bookcases. He can practically _feel_ the look Mother Giselle gives them, and that hag can stick her pointy hat where the sun doesn’t shine for all he cares. “I actually had something in mind, if you truly wish to spend your precious free time with me.”

     Trevelyan’s voice is a touch breathless when he answers. “I always have time for you Dorian.”

     Such a precious, clever boy. “Then follow me to your chambers, will you?”

     Trevelyan looks a tad suspicious, but at another peck of his lips, he nods. “Alright.”

     Dorian can’t help but throw a wicked look at Mother Giselle over his shoulder before he leads Trevelyan away by the hand and to his quarters, where he hopes that his careful planning will pay off.

 

***

     Their trip to Trevelyan’s quarters is by no small miracle left uninterrupted, and the younger mage laughs as Dorian keeps their hands linked as they amble up the stairs. Trevelyan gasps as Dorian yanks him into his arms after they reach the top step. The younger mage chuckles and wraps his arms around Dorian’s waist, snuggling into his chest. Dorian so rarely holds him close like this and he’s going to take advantage of the opportunity. “Is this what you wanted to do?” He asks between chuckles.

     Dorian pecks him on the lips. “Not precisely.” He pecks him on the lips a second time.

     Trevelyan looks Dorian in the eyes. Such a rare occurrence and Dorian treasures it for a moment before speaking. He must be very careful; start with a pawn. “Do you remember the night at the tavern a few months ago?”

     Trevelyan blinks and looks away, attempting to remember. So much has happened in the past few months that it takes a moment for him to recall, yet Dorian knows he does when he flushes and buries his face into Dorian’s neck. “You mean when I drunk myself into a stupor and made a complete ass out of myself?”

     Dorian can’t help but chuckle. “Not a complete arse, my dear man.”

     The only reason he knows that Trevelyan frowns is because his mouth is pressed against Dorian’s neck, and oh how Dorian wishes that the boy was brave enough to suck a mark into the skin there. “You’re just saying that,” Trevelyan whispers furiously, turning his head away.

     Dorian can’t have that. Time to retreat for a moment. He pulls the younger mage back, gripping his chin and tilting it up so Trevelyan will look him in the eyes. “I’m not lying Trevelyan.”

     Trevelyan’s frown is still present when he asks, “Then why did you bring it up?”

     Dorian rubs his thumb along the stubble smattering the boy’s chin. What he’s about to bring up is a big risk, but he’s hoping it will end in his favor. He leans in close, tempting Trevelyan with his lips yet not quite pressing them together. He can feel the brush of their lips when he murmurs, “You made quite an interesting sound that night as you left. Do you recall? When Bull decided to slap you?”

     Trevelyan’s muscles all tense up at the same moment, and Dorian grips him tight via his lower back before the younger man can push himself away. “You’re _mocking_ me.” Trevelyan hisses, the look in his eyes so hurt that it makes something twinge in Dorian’s heart. The older mage quickly back tracks, hushing Trevelyan and pressing his lips to his cheek.

     “No, no, I swear that I’m not,” he says, and it’s absolutely true. He would never mock the boy for such a beautiful sound.

     “Then why?” Trevelyan still sounds betrayed, like he still doesn’t believe Dorian, and despite not being ready, Dorian needs to go for the King.

     “I want to hear it again,” Dorian admits, skimming his hand up and down lightly across the lower expanse of Trevelyan’s back.

     The embarrassed flush returns, and Dorian bites his cheek so he doesn’t smile. He hasn’t won yet. “Why?” Trevelyan’s voice is small when he asks.

     Dorian’s breath rushes out of him and he presses his face into Trevelyan’s neck and whispers fervently in his ear, “Because it was _beautiful_.”

     Trevelyan tenses all over again before he shudders, and whether it’s from embarrassment or arousal, Dorian truly cannot tell. The boy doesn’t speak for a long moment before whispering with such hesitance that it once again plucks something at Dorian’s heart. “You don’t think…..it’s shameful? That I-that I enjoyed that?”

     “Does it bring you pleasure to be spanked, Inquisitor?” Dorian can’t help but keep the slight pleased tinge out of his voice as he pulls away to look Trevelyan in the eye again.

     His face is a brilliant crimson, and his eyes are flicking about in his nervous habit, yet Dorian waits for him to answer. “ _I don’t know,_ ” he finally admits in a whisper, and Dorian knows it for the truth.

     Time for the final question, asked in a hushed, calming tone. “Do you wish to find out?”

     Trevelyan’s eyes finally meets his, and Dorian can see how terrified the boy is, and he almost rescinds his offer, throwing away his entire plan because the look on Trevelyan’s face is utterly heartbreaking and-

     “Alright.”

     Dorian blinks. “Beg pardon?”

     Trevelyan looks away, chewing at his lip. “I said ‘ _alright_ ’,” he replies in a fervent whisper.

     Dorian cannot help but kiss him then. “ _Precious boy,_ ” he says against Trevelyan’s lips.

   

***

     Dorian goes easy on the boy and relents to his anxiousness by triple checking that every lock in his quarters is in fact locked before they start. Trevelyan sits criss cross on his bed, his boots already undone and off. Dorian absolutely cannot wait to get him out of that beige monstrosity and reveal the skin underneath. The younger man is fidgeting in nervousness, chewing on the skin next to his nails and bouncing his knee. Dorian sets the key to the door on Trevelyan’s desk and turns, regarding the other man with a smoldering gaze. He steps slowly forward as he speaks. “Before we begin, I’m afraid there are some rules we must go over.”

     Trevelyan only stops chewing at his thumb long enough to answer. “Rules?”

     Dorian nods. “For your own safety, dear boy.” He reaches the bed and sits down next to Trevelyan, his legs still firmly planted on the floor. He pulls Trevelyan’s hand away from his mouth and Trevelyan flushes, an apology on his mouth but Dorian continues before he has the chance to. “I want everything that we do together to be pleasant for you, and since what we’re about to do is no doubt going to hurt and send you into a certain headspace, things may become a tad confusing.”

     Trevelyan blinks. “Confusing?” He asks, chewing at the dead skin on his lips now. Dorian resists the urge to sigh at the sight.

     Instead he nods again. “Yes, confusing. There may be a point where you may ask for me to stop, but you truly don’t want it to. Your mind may not be entirely clear on what you want, so communication is important.”

     Trevelyan brows furrow. “Then how do I tell you if I truly want to stop?”

     Dorian smiles and runs a thumb over the hand still clasped in his. “The easiest and safest way is to choose a word together, a word you would not normally use, and understand that that word means stop no matter what.”

     “So like a password…” Trevelyan rationalizes, and Dorian nods.

     “It’s called a watchword. If at any point with me you feel uncomfortable and you want what we’re doing to stop, you say your watchword and I will stop, no questions asked.”

     Trevelyan chews at his lips in thought, looking quite a bit less nervous than before as he digests this information. Dorian is glad that the introduction of a watchword seems to have calmed the boy. Dorian himself had only been with a few men who instigated the use of a watchword, but he was familiar enough with the practice that he was confident with using it. “So what word should we choose?” Trevelyan asks, and the older mage is glad he’s coming around to the idea.

     “I believe that choice should go to you,” Dorian cedes, not particularly taken with one word over another.

     “Templar,” Trevelyan says almost immediately and with a force that catches Dorian by surprise. It’s not unusual, considering that Trevelyan is also a mage. Yet the slight vehemence with which he said the word hints at an underlying meaning. Dorian doesn’t push it. There is time to examine that another day.

     Dorian nods. “Templar it is then.”

     Trevelyan nods back, resolute in his choice. He then swallows and looks away from Dorian. “So should we...start?”

     Dorian smiles and leans forward, capturing Trevelyan’s lips for a brief moment. “Would you remove your clothes for me?”

     Trevelyan’s glup is audible enough to make Dorian chuckle as he asks, “All of them?”

     Dorian hums in affirmation. “I would like to see you bare.” Trevelyan’s breath hitches in the most delightful way as he starts to tremble, his hands suddenly frozen at his sides. “Do you require assistance?” Dorian asks.

     Trevelyan shakes his head, and Dorian can tell he’s trying to keep his voice steady. “I-I can do it.” The younger mage reaches with shaking hands for the clasps that keep his tunic on, slowly unclasping them and revealing tan skin, though he looks pale compared to Dorian.

     Time for a test. Dorian is not about to go into this with an unwilling partner. “Remind me of your safeword?” He asks, and his tone is stern, more commanding than he’s ever been with Trevelyan, and the younger mage freezes, looking up at Dorian with wide, doe eyes.

     “T-templar,” he slightly stutters, but gets it out.

     “I know you, Inquisitor,” Dorian says. “I know you sacrifice yourself over others-” Trevelyan opens his mouth to protest but Dorian keeps going, leaning close. “Swear to me you will not keep silent if you want to stop due to the fact that you want to make me happy. Having an unwilling partner gives me no joy.”

     Trevelyan swallows. “I’m not unwilling-”

     “ _Swear_ to me Trevelyan.” Dorian’s tone is no nonsense.

     “I swear,” Trevelyan says in a hushed tone, looking Dorian directly in the eyes.

     “Good boy,” Dorian praises before pressing his lips against Trevelyan’s once again.

 

***

     Trevelyan is far more beautiful bent over his knee and willing than Dorian’s mind could ever have imagined. So much naturally tanned freckled skin on display for him, such warmth pressing against him that his mind is heady with whats going to happen. Trevelyan seems to anticipate what’s to come as well, since he cannot stop squirming in Dorian’s lap, his face pressed into the sheets below him so he doesn’t have to see. His bashfulness is so charming now that Dorian is certain that he wants this. The hand with the mark is clutching at blankets, it’s magic pulsing with Trevelyan’s wiggling. “Communication is important,” Dorian begins, touching featherlight to Trevelyan’s shoulderblades. It makes the man startle and squirm. “I’m going to tell you exactly what I’m going to do, so there is no surprises. I’m going to spank you in sets of ten, starting off very lightly, then escalating in pressure. Do you understand?” Dorian sees Trevelyan nod against the sheets, but he wants verbal confirmation. He decides to be a little wicked and takes hold of one of Treveylan’s naked arse cheeks and squeezes.

     It elicits what can only be described as a squeak before stuttering, “Y-yes, I-I understand.”

     “Good boy,” Dorian praises, squeezing down more gently on the muscle in his hand, humming softly at the give. Such a beautiful body. “Are you ready?”

     “Yes,” Trevelyan says and Dorian is pleased with the verbal confirmation.

     “Excellent. Now, I will start with ten light slaps to start. Could you count them?”

     Trevelyan swallows and turns his head, just his eye peeking out from the blankets. “I can try,” he whispers.

     Dorian strokes at the skin in his hands. “That’s all I ask of you dear boy.”

     Trevelyan nods, clutching at the sheets in preparation. He’s tense, but if Dorian starts rather softly it won’t end up hurting the boy.

     The first slap is no harder than a slap on the wrist, but Trevelyan yelps anyway, lurching away from the contact. The noise melts into a breathless hitch and oh how Dorian loves the sound. “O-one.” Trevelyan already sounds breathless, and it delights Dorian so much how reactive this boy is.

     The next succession of slaps is no harder than before, alternating between cheeks and Trevelyan seems to get into the rhythm of it quite quickly, not flinching and tensing so much before every smack. He counts dutifully albeit stuttering, but Dorian counts it as a win regardless. By the short time they reach ten, Trevelyan is already panting, squirming against Dorian’s spread thighs and Dorian can begin to feel the younger man’s cock hardening in arousal. Trevelyan’s arse cheeks are only slightly pink, hardly even warm, but Dorian rubs a soothing hand over them anyway, knowing that it’s important. “Ready for the next set?”

     Trevelyan swallows on a “Yes,” and Dorian smiles, unable to resist giving the flesh at his hands a gentle squeeze.

     “Ten more, a little harder now, don’t forget to count.” Dorian says, and pulls his hand away to ready himself and Trevelyan.

     Several sets go by in this fashion, each set a little harder than the last. At the beginning of the fourth set Trevelyan is panting into the sheets, squirming back and forth, looking as though he’s searching for friction to his now hard cock yet wanting to push back into the stinging slaps. Dorian places his free arm over Trevelyan’s back to keep him steady.

     It’s beautiful to see. Plus the noises, _Maker_ the noises. It becomes clear quite quickly that Trevelyan has no ability to filter the noises. No matter how much he seems to bury his face into his blankets or bite at his lips, that same yelp whimper from all those months ago escapes his lips as if it cannot be contained.

     At the beginning of the sixth set, Trevelyan’s arse is pink and nearly hot to the touch. He’s squirming nonstop, and Dorian can smell the sex that’s starting to leak into the air. Trevelyan’s cock must be dripping, and it makes Dorian’s own cock throb in sympathy from inside his trousers. The Tevinter tries his best to ignore it, knowing that Trevelyan’s pleasure at the moment is more important than his own, so he continues.

     The end of the eighth set is when the tears spill over. He hears more than sees it, moans and whines leaking out of Trevelyan’s mouth around the sobbing. Dorian almost stops, but Trevelyan is still pushing his arse back against his slaps, so he continues. Trevelyan isn’t even counting anymore, but Dorian cannot find it in himself to care. He is absolutely enraptured by this man, so willing to put himself in Dorian’s hands despite his powerfully anxious nature. What they’re doing together has turned into such an unexpected gift and Dorian couldn’t be more pleased.

     Trevelyan’s cheeks are edging into red territory, but they’re almost finished, and Dorian wants to see this through. Which is why embarrassingly enough when he hears a strangled cry of, “ _Templar!”_ it takes him a moment to react.

     When the word finally registers he freezes, pulling Trevelyan up as gently but as quickly as he can to hold and soothe the still sobbing man who is babbling, “ _I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”_ over and over again.

     Dorian pulls Trevelyan to him, pressing the man’s face into his neck. He gently pets the boy’s hair and hushes him, kissing at his temples over and over. “No no, you did exactly as I asked. _I_ should be the one apologizing for pushing you too far. I’m so proud you used your watchword when it was too much, you did exactly the right thing.”

     Trevelyan sniffs. “Then you’re not mad?”

     Dorian can’t help a strained chuckle. “Maker _no!_ Of course I’m not mad you silly boy!” He pulls back just enough to look Trevelyan in the eyes. “You should be mad with me!”

     Trevelyan sniffs again. “I’m not,” he says in a quiet voice.

     Dorian smiles and presses a kiss on Trevelyan’s lips. “I still apologize.”

     A moment of long silence passes between them before Trevelyan finally speaks. “So what happens now?” he asks, chewing on the lip that Dorian just kissed.

     “Whatever you wish. If you want to call the entire thing off we can, and we never have to do this again if you don’t want.” Dorian assures, petting a gentle hand through the younger man’s hair.

     Trevelyan’s answer surprises him when his fellow mage gives a bashful smile. “I wouldn’t go _that_ far.”

     Dorian’s brow raises. “Oh really? Did you like it? Did it make you feel good?”

     Trevelyan swallows and glances downward. Dorian follows the gaze to see Trevelyan’s prick, still hard and flushed. Perhaps not as aroused as he was before he called out his watchword, but still hard nonetheless. “Y-yes,” Trevelyan whispers.

     Dorian smirks and mumbles against Trevelyan’s lips. “Do you want me to take care of that for you?”

     Trevelyan whimpers. “Maker _please._ ”

     Dorian situates them both so that Trevelyan is on his knees, straddling over Dorian’s waist so that his stinging arse doesn’t touch anything. The younger man is flushed all the way down to his chest at the position, chewing at his lips through little pants of air. He looks absolutely delectable, and Dorian can’t help but lean forward and lick a hot stripe against the closest skin he can manage. Trevelyan whimpers and bucks forward, right into Dorian’s hand which circles around his pulsing shaft. “Dorian-!” Trevelyan moans and _Maker_ what Dorian wouldn’t give to always hear his name like that on Trevelyan’s lips.

     The older mage hushes his younger counterpart, pumping his shaft in even strokes from top to bottom, adding pressure and a flick of his wrist towards the head that he knows drives every man mad. Trevelyan does not know what to do with his hands and he flounders, finally setting a hand on Dorian’s shoulder and squeezing tightly.

     Dorian knows how wound up the boy his, and he won’t tease him with how the spanking ended, so he speeds his fist, using his other arm to wrap around and press Trevelyan’s arse forward, encouraging him to thrust into his fist. He hopes that it doesn’t sting too much, but from the broken exclamation that shoots out of Trevelyan’s mouth, he assumes that it can’t be too bad. “Such a precious boy,” Dorian whispers fervently, rubbing his thumb up against the sweet spot right underneath the flushed and leaking head of Trevelyan’s cock.

     That does it for Trevelyan. A whine that’s uncontrolled and pleasantly high pitched slips out of his mouth and he freezes for a moment and Dorian knows that moment, that millisecond of intense pleasure before you fall over the precipice; knows how wonderful it feels. He keeps stroking, watching his precious boy fall apart once again underneath his hands. Trevelyan comes, his release spurting out of him and over his stomach and Dorian’s hand. He thrusts slightly, chasing his pleasure and Dorian cannot keep his eyes away from the beautiful face of a man falling apart in pleasure. When the aftershocks of his orgasm finally fade away, Trevelyan sags, hissing as his arse rests on Dorian’s legs. He waves off Dorian’s concerned look and lets out a long breath, pressing his head against Dorian’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he breathes.

     Dorian can’t help but smile. “Thank _you_ , my boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How come no one told me that not calling your Inquisitor by name was SO HARD?


	2. Dirty Talk

     “You want me to do what?” The near squeak in Trevelyan’s voice causes a chuckle to slip from Dorian’s mouth. He presses his face against Trevelyan’s neck and nips at the skin, wanting to hear another hitch of breath come out of the younger man.

     “I want you to tell me how good it feels as I touch you.” He replies, unable to resist smiling into Trevelyan’s neck. “Surely you’ve heard of dirty talk, dear Inquisitor.”

     Trevelyan scrunches in on himself in that way he does when he’s embarrassed, and Dorian can’t help but tease the boy with light kisses to the underside of his jaw. “Of course I do,” he whispers harshly, his knees pulling up towards his chest. Dorian can’t have that, so he wraps his arms around Trevelyan’s waist and hauls him up into his lap, with Dorian’s chest to his back. The younger man yelps and flails quite unheroic-like, and Dorian outright laughs as he hugs Trevelyan to him.

     “I would like to hear you express your pleasure in words,” Dorian says, caressing Trevelyan’s clothes stomach with light touches. “If you can express your pleasure to me and survive, imagine how much easier being the Inquisitor will be! I’m doing you a favor, really.”

     Trevelyan snorts. “You’re incorrigible.”

     “I’m not hearing a ‘no’,” Dorian replies in a light sing-song tone.

     Trevelyan looks up at Dorian. “I can try,” he says through bitten lips.

     “That’s my boy,” Dorian smiles. He kisses Trevelyan at the corner of his eye. “Remind me of your watchword?”

     Dorian repeats the phrase every time he and Trevelyan adventure into a sexual tryst, reminding the boy that if it truly becomes too much, that there is a safe way out. He wants Trevelyan to trust and feel safe with him and enjoy what they do together no matter what, so he knows the repetition is important.

     “Templar,” Trevelyan says, and there is no hesitation in is voice.

     Dorian rewards him with a kiss to his lips, tilting Trevelyan’s head up and back so they can slot their lips together. He splits the seam of Trevelyan’s lips almost immediately and plunders his mouth. It’s one part want and another part distraction, for as he kisses Trevelyan, Dorian begins to unhook the clasps that keeps the man’s tunic together, sliding a warm hand across the skin that’s slowly exposed.

     Trevelyan whines into the kiss, trying to tilt his head to kiss Dorian deeper, but the awkward positioning makes it quite difficult. Dorian brushes a light touch over an exposed nipple with the pad of this thumb, an he files away the little choke of air he gets in return. He’ll have to come back to that later, for now, he has a greater prize to reach. He slips Trevelyan’s tunic open but not off, trailing the hard muscles twitching and tensing underneath the skin. Trevelyan moans softly against Dorian’s mouth at the gentle touches, and Dorian’s prick is already hardening in his trousers at the sounds slipping from the younger man’s mouth.

     “Feels g-good,” Trevelyan stutters, and Dorian feels it rather than hears it it’s spoken so softly. It makes him groan with anticipation. He prays to the Maker that he can get Trevelyan aroused enough that the boy begs to let him come. Dorian licks at his lips and due to their close proximity, lightly licks Trevelyan’s lips as well. “I-I don’t know what else to say,” the boy admits.

     Dorian smiles. “I can help you learn,” he replies. His hand skims the top of Trevelyan’s trousers, and with a quick glance southward he can see that Trevelyan is starting to get rather excited. His hips bucks in little aborted thrusts and the tight leather of his breeches stretches over his hardening erection. Dorian returns his attention to the younger man and situates them, encouraging Trevelyan to press his face back against Dorian’s neck. The young man does as directed, not refusing the opportunity to hide his face. Dorian hopes that one day he can break the boy of his embarrassment, but he’s not going to push so far today. He places a warm hand over the frantic beating of Trevelyan’s heart and whispers in his ear. “How does me touching you make you feel?” He asks, casually brushing his thumb over a pink nipple.

     Trevelyan squirms, unsure of what to say. “It makes me feel good….?”

     Dorian praises his own patience. “Be a little more specific darling boy.” His voice is low and sensual in Trevelyan’s ear when he speaks next. “Does my touching make your cock hard?”

     Trevelyan gulps and whimpers. “Y-yes.”

     “Say it,” Dorian presses, and is rewarded with a whine and a buck of hips.

     “You touch-touching me--” Trevelyan starts, and he’s trembling. Dorian keeps him anchored, pulled close as he still casually caresses Trevelyan’s chest. “Makes my c-cock hard.” Trevelyan finishes, and Dorian can feel how hot his face is flushed against the skin of his neck.

     Hearing Trevelyan stumble over the harsh word makes Dorian groan in pleasure, grinding his hips and in turn his trapped erection against Trevelyan’s lower back. The younger man gasps, and clutches a sudden hand on Dorian’s wrist, and Dorian almost stops his movements until Trevelyan rocks back, a whine in his throat as he squirms against Dorian. The leather of Trevelyan’s breeches is stretched taut, and Dorian decides to have a little mercy on the boy. He reaches down and rubs the flat of his palm over the material, and he groans as it’s warm to the touch. Trevelyan keens, bucking into his hand and panting against his neck. Dorian growls and grinds against Trevelyan’s back, his own erection throbbing. “Do you want me to help you with this?”

     Trevelyan bites at his lips and nods furiously, and Dorian pulls his hand away. Trevelyan gasps and thrusts up at the lost contact, suddenly babbling like he just remembered what they were doing. “Yes, yes, yes plea-please help me.”

     Dorian doesn’t have _that_ much mercy to give. “‘Please help me’, what?”

     Trevelyan swallows a whine and breathes it out harshly. “Please take my cock out.” It rushes out of his mouth so quickly that Dorian almost doesn’t catch it.

     A groan slips out of Dorian’s mouth. He reaches for the laces of Trevelyan’s breeches and practically rips at them, pulling the bucking boy tight to his body to keep him steady. “You’re such an eager little thing,” he says, reaching past Trevelyan’s breeches and smallclothes to grip at hot pulsing skin.

     A loud sniff catches him off guard, and he inclines his head to see tears tracking down Trevelyan’s cheeks. He yanks his hand away from Trevelyan’s erection and almost turns him around when a broken sob breaks out of the younger man’s mouth. “N-No! Please don’t stop!” He begs, grabbing Dorian’s arm in a white knuckle grip and catching the older man by surprise. He sniffs and rubs at his eyes with his free hand. “‘m sorry, please don’t stop.”

     Perhaps Dorian has mercy after all. He strokes calmly down towards Trevelyan’s still trapped cock. “Why are you crying, darling boy?” He asks in the mage’s ear.

     Trevelyan grimaces and turns his head away. “It’s overwhelming,” he admits. “So much sensation a-and the words--my mind gets all mixed together and--”

     Dorian kisses his cheek, “But you want to continue?”

     Trevelyan chews at his lips. “I didn’t use my watchword…”

     Dorian nods. “That doesn’t mean I can’t make sure you’re alright,” he says, gently thumbing through the light thatch of hair trailing down underneath Trevelyan’s navel. The younger man turns his head to look up at Dorian as well as he can in their position, still chewing at his lips. “Is there something else, Trevelyan?”

     His face pinks and Dorian smiles at the sight, thumbing away the tears on his still wet cheeks. The Tevinter man ignores the twinge in his heart at the adoring look Trevelyan gives him, completely open with affection. “C-can, can we face each other?”

     Dorian kisses the boy next to his eye to avoid the tender look Trevelyan gives him, not wanting to analyze the warmth tingling in his chest because of it. “Whatever you wish,” Dorian breathes, and uses gentle hands to turn Trevelyan over and onto his back, head resting against the many pillows that decorate the head of the bed. He hovers over Trevelyan, kissing over the tear tracks on his cheeks and onto his lips. He presses his tongue into Trevelyan’s mouth as the boy gasps beneath him, wrenching his trousers and his smallclothes down. Trevelyan’s cock practically springs out of his clothes and he chokes on a sob at it twitches freely in the air. Precome spills out of the slit and Dorian pulls back to look at it, and involuntarily licks his lips. Trevelyan keens and Dorian looks him in the eyes, and his heart swells with pride seeing that Trevelyan is looking right back at him. Dorian swallows roughly and glances down and Trevelyan follows the motion with his eyes and oh does Dorian get the most wicked idea. He licks his lips and clears his throat before he speaks, yet his voice is still low and rough. “Would you like me to take you into my mouth, Lord Inquisitor?”

     Trevelyan’s eyes screw shut as he gasps and bucks, gripping at the sheets next to his head so tightly Dorian is afraid he might actually rip them. “Y-Yes! Please!”

     A smirk pulls at the older man’s lips and he descends, unable to resist kissing his way down Trevelyan’s chest, laving his tongue over clenched abdominals. He can feel Trevelyan’s cock brushing underneath his chin, and it makes him salivate. Oh but Dorian is wicked. He sucks a mark to the jut of Trevelyan’s left hipbone, pressing a hand down over his other hip to keep him steady. Dorian glances up at Trevelyan through his eyelashes with a look he’s made dozens of times and his lips stretch in a sultry smile. “Ask for it.”

     A sob bursts from Trevelyan’s mouth and he tries to thrust against Dorian, but the man keeps his hips in check. “D-Dorian--! Maker _please_!”

     Such a wicked, wicked man. “Say it,” he hisses with a smirk.

     Dorian sits poised, waiting for Trevelyan to answer. The boy whines and pants, trying desperately to buck his hips. “Please put your mouth on me, Dorian, _pleaaase!”_ He whines on the word, hiccuping a sob and wiggling furiously against Dorian’s hands.

     “Yes, ser.” Dorian smirks, engulfing the head of Trevelyan’s prick in one go, gripping white knuckle on the boy’s hips in expectation of the buck into his throat. What he doesn’t expect is the broken shout bursting out of Trevelyan’s mouth as he comes, spurting thick hot jets of ejaculate right onto Dorian’s tongue. Dorian reacts quickly, suckling and swallowing around the pulsating prick, working Trevelyan through his climax. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Trevelyan shivers and pushes weakly at Dorian’s head, hiccuping and sniffling, fresh tears spilling over his cheeks.

     The Tevinter man pulls away and licks at his lips, finally pulling his hands away from Trevelyan’s hips. With how hard he was gripping the boy, there will be marks in the shape of his hands there for sure. The younger mage pulls at Dorian’s collar, whimpering lightly. “Can we kiss?” he asks, his voice breaking softly.

     Dorian can’t help but acquiesce, shifting upwards, the pressure in his own trousers suddenly the center of attention. He groans into Trevelyan’s mouth, grinding against the boy’s hip. “Such a beautiful boy,” he grunts, feeling his orgasm pulsing closer.

     “Can you teach me how to do that?” Trevelyan asks against Dorian’s lips, gripping at his shoulder.

     “Do what?” He asks, playing with the loose strands of Trevelyan’s hair.

     “Take you into my mouth?” Trevelyan asks shyly, his voice the barest breath against Dorian’s lips.

     The elder mage gasps, his climax taking him by surprise. He spurts into his trousers like a teenager, grinding hard against the younger man’s hip as he rides out his orgasm. When he finally comes down, his eyes open, unaware as to when he closed them. He smirks and lets out a sigh, pressing his head against Trevelyan’s shoulder. “You’re a wicked man.”

     Trevelyan chuckles weakly. “Takes one to know one,” he teases, and it causes a laugh to slip from Dorian’s lips.

     He presses a kiss to Trevelyan’s temple subconsciously, trying not to analyze the tender gesture once he realizes he’s done it. He breathes a deep sigh and finally sags against the body below him, bestowing another kiss to Trevelyan’s skin, this time right underneath his jaw. “We should redress,” he suggests, but does not move. The semen drying in his breeches in unpleasant, but the idea of moving sounds like a far worse idea.

     Trevelyan chuckles and wraps his arms around Dorian’s back, wiggling to make himself more comfortable. He kisses Dorian’s temple and murmurs. “Later.”

     Dorian can feel the mark on Trevelyan’s hand pulse against his back, the magic warm and surprisingly calming. Perhaps it was due to the man attached to it? Dorian heaves another sigh and allows himself to close his eyes.

     A short nap doesn’t sound too awful at the moment, really.

 

 


End file.
